


Simulacrum

by perryvic, Zaganthi (Caffiends)



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Fucking Machines, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-16
Updated: 2011-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-18 04:13:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perryvic/pseuds/perryvic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He supposed it was telling that Erik kept trying to build things, from small gadgets right up to mutant civilizations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simulacrum

Erik had been an engineer at heart.

He'd never been content to rely on his ability by itself. He needed to utilize it to build, to create, to make things that would last and last and last. Erik had always had an obsession with standing the test of time, outlasting all comers.

He'd certainly left an indelible impression on Charles.

He supposed it was telling that Erik kept trying to build things, from small gadgets right up to mutant civilizations. Unfortunately, sometimes his lofty ideals were cast down just as thoroughly as some of the asteroids he put up.

For all their history together (or perhaps because of it), Charles knew that he could never just walk away from Erik. Figuratively speaking, of course. He was in custody again, their custody, and time would tell how long that lasted or how well that went, and whether he would cooperate and how long until he drove himself mad with mendacity and had to splinter off from them.

For the moment, the X-Men could at least sort through the equipment on his base, picking and choosing what to keep and what to destroy entirely.

It took someone who knew Erik to find one particular room and he had the others bring Erik to him and leave them alone. "Erik," he began. "What is it that I will find in this so well hidden room?" He dreaded evidence of some other extreme plan. One day Erik would push him too far. Some days, he wondered if the man who was standing there with a control collar on was manic depressive, because so often these plans seemed like fantastic, no, necessary ideas for Erik, and in the cold light of day even Erik would deny them. It was more than a little frustrating.

"Nothing of particularly great importance, Charles. Must you drag out this humiliation?"

"I am afraid I must see it," Charles insisted, but catching a real hit of the fear of humiliation rather than concealment, he ensured no one else would come near. "I guarantee that it is just us two. We must go in, Erik."

"Your people have put this collar on me. I'm afraid I can't open the door any other way." And without his helmet, there was no hiding his reaction, but that anticipation was ratcheting Erik up. He hated being captured, held, disgraced, and this was a combination of all three. His plan defeated again, just by dint of needing to ally with the X-men to stop a greater enemy.

"If I remove the collar, do you give me your word, Erik, that you will not try to harm me or escape?" Without the helmet, he could stop him with a thought.

They were still mostly an even match, though Erik tired after physical fights. Always had. Charles felt a flicker of anger. "I give you my word."

He pressed the button to turn it off, and gestured. "Please open the door now."

Erik pressed his hand against the door, and it slowly slid open. The room beyond lit only slowly, and in response to Erik, Charles was sure. It wasn't very complex -- a complicated chair, like a throne, like a version of Cerebro, a room full of screens. "Are you satisfied?"

Charles wasn't sure at what he was looking. "What does it do?" he asked, peering at it.

"It's for sitting in." Erik waited for him to go inside or not, because he seemed disinterested in stepping inside. "I came here to relax and be left alone."

He was hiding something from him. I wasn't as obvious as that, and Charles moved his chair forward. "There's a lot of equipment here for just sitting," he commented as he gestured for him to follow.

"It's a control system." No, still not right. Erik was eyeing the chair, and then glancing over at Charles. God knew what happened when a person, when Erik sat in it.

"Erik," he said in a gentle tone. "What does the chair do?"

"It's an interface system with the base's facilities." Still lying, but that was closer to the mark. Erik moved a little closer to the chair, circling around Charles. "There's no need to pry further."

"Erik, I would like to see what this interface system does." He concentrated, trying to catch a glimmer of thought from the other mutant

Nothing in particular, just another spike of anger, not quite rage, but anger at how humiliating it was. If he wanted to, Charles could have probed deeper, but Erik was moving to sit in it. "Fine."

"Erik, I don't mean to anger you," he assured, but he had to admit he was intrigued.

"And yet you do." And yet he did. And yet they kept fighting, over large and small, stupid things. He had his head held high while he settled into the chair, leaning back in it, placing his hands carefully in curves that seemed built for his fingers to settle on. He closed his eyes, and it seemed to shift, metal coming over his hands, his arms, a band sliding out from the headrest to slide around his forehead.

A control band, similar to that of Cerebro. Well Erik had worked on it with him. He had developed a lot of the technology. "It isn't intentional."

"No, Charles, but it comes so naturally to you." He shifted, and Charles watched his expression waver for a moment. "There, are you satisfied it's not a weapons system?"

"Perhaps it isn't, but you're hiding its nature from me," Charles replied. "Do you trust me so little?"

He watched Erik's expression shift again, an odd look sliding across his mouth. Erik's mouth was always expressive, and Charles shouldn't have been thinking that. Not given the circumstances. "It's a machine to simulate sex, Charles."

"Oh." Oh. He found himself a little nonplussed and from the flickers he could feel, very fascinated. "For your own personal use?" He was aware he sounded intrigued rather than disgusted.

"Obviously." Well, yes, that was obvious because Erik wasn't likely to share something like that with others, though he was curious about how it worked, and why Erik had built it.

"How... how does it work?" He found himself distracted by the thoughts in his head, satisfying his curiosity irresistible.

"It has a few loosely arranged routines that I've programmed. It's a mixture of mental reality and the machine's workings." Workings. Workings. Well, he supposed the chair did things, in the most basic of sense.

"And it is pleasurable?" Charles queried. "Do you control what it will do?"

"Unless I've programmed it not to obey me, yes. Clearly it's pleasurable, Charles, or else I wouldn't have made and kept it." His willingness to talk about it was fraying, but Erik's temper was slowing.

That was an interesting thought right there. "I confess to being intrigued, Erik. It isn't something I've come across before."

"And here I thought you'd always sworn the accident didn't kill your libido." That was a low blow, but normal people took on other lovers.

Charles raised his eyebrows. "Yes, well. Will you show me?" Through his thoughts would do.

"If I must." Erik seemed to be pulling together a little of his control, and he moved his arm a little, possibly keying in controls. It was hard to tell, even as he reached out to his mind. He could feel that familiar sense of Erik's mind, and then the unfolding of the first sensation and memories. Or not memories. It was hard to tell, and while Charles was sure he hadn't been in quite that moment, or didn't remember it, it felt very real, very much like an actual memory. Charles could see the master bedroom in Westchester, sharp, perhaps more precisely placed than it ever had been in reality, and himself and Erik in the bed. Vying for dominance, so a memory stolen from before he'd had his accident.

There was something oddly flattering about that. He remembered then. They both switched in and out and sometimes he even managed to wrestle Erik into a laughing submission though he suspected the other man had been letting him do that. So the machine was mimicking him? Fully functional if that was what Erik wanted. It made him wonder if the other 'programs' where they did not obey were also him. He wouldn't know, of course, unless Erik showed him, and Charles thought he wouldn't. He wanted to see how much he could see without disrupting the program, interfering with it and possibly catching Erik's attention that he was being most intimately observed.

Charles honestly didn't mind, though Erik must have gathered that much before he'd agreed to show him. It was intriguing to watch himself pin Erik down to the mattress, laughing, watching Erik 'try' to get himself free, and groping Charles's ass with a backwards-reaching hand.

In reality, parts of the chair were moving, finely engineered parts, smooth and silent so as not to detract from the programmed mental environment. He remembered doing what was in Erik's mind, loving it. He remembered him and Erik together, alone against the world and the only matches for each other.

Maybe a part of him never forgot that.

To go to such lengths to recreate moments like that, and to recreate them well, well enough that he could feel the enjoyment pouring off of Erik, as hands that weren't real slid over his back when Charles leaned back.

What a feat of engineering to produce something that could create the physical to match the mental. Something able to mimic the playful tracing of fingers over skin, or the weight of him, and presumably the means to fuck as well. He was sure that if he slipped out of the memory, he could watch. Erik's clothes were generally formed wholesale out of metals, and it would be easy for him to ease them away for himself when he needed them gone.

Curiosity won out and he kept the contact so he was aware of the shape of the memory going on and then refocused on the real world and what the chair was doing. Or wasn't doing. There were metal almost tentacle shaped items enmeshing and touching skin now, mimicking hands and Erik's clothes were just melting back to expose flesh. Erik had given into the program, so Charles suspected it was going to play itself out, and he might as well enjoy the show, and the _show_ , because he wasn't going to leave Erik in there alone. There was something compelling about the gleam of flexing metal, the subtle movements, the minor electric charge that was simulating a tingle that he knew Eric felt. He watched as they acted as arms to push Erik's legs apart and when something disturbingly large emerged from a recess. That had to be artistic license because Charles knew he wasn't that big.

Still. Still, it was a fantasy and the machine had to make up for what it lacked in human blood and warmth and unpredictability. Erik's eyes were closed, and the muscles in his arms were twitching. It wasn't as if fucking Erik like that was something that was within Charles's ability to perform.

He wished it was, he wanted to be able to match that implacable pushing in and then slow wind up of the pistoning metal phallus, no doubt covered in something to mimic hot flesh. He couldn't help imagining what that might feel like somehow. Unstoppable. Indefatigable.

Not that Erik probably wanted it to stop, because in the program he was goading Charles on, arching back for more; in reality, Charles could see his muscles twitching, straining, could see the fine beads of sweat starting to form from exertion.

It was making his own pulse race, mesmerizing him with the climbing speed of the machine, pushing deep now. His mouth had gone dry and oh god, how long had it been? Far too long. Far too long since Erik, and only a little less time since his last actual lover because there were so many complications, so many things that could make it hard on a companion. It seemed Erik had devised his own solution to loneliness.

What had stopped him from taking another lover? He was an attractive, powerful man and who could fail to be aroused watching him in the throes of his passion? The muscles revealed in their lean glory, skin flushed and gleaming a little with perspiration as the shining silver of the metal slid over him and into him. Over and over and over, and he didn't need to see the 'program' to see that Erik was close to orgasm, his dick jutting out hard, the head flushed a desperate red, hitting air rather than bedding. It was tempting to move his chair in closer. Just a lit, just a bit more until he could smell what sex was like again, even sex with a machine. He wanted to touch again, feel that part of life again, but he didn't want to break Erik's concentration. Perhaps he wouldn’t notice. He still felt very deep, very engrossed in the scenario, and that was all Charles needed to check on before he leaned forward, fingers sliding over Erik's bare thigh to test.

No obvious reaction, not from Erik or the machine sensors. Easy enough to slide his hand in rhythm over the quivering muscles towards his once lover’s erection.

It was very easy to stroke him, slowly at first, and then a little more firmly, until he'd fallen into the rhythm the machine was taking with Erik, fast and firm. He felt so close, so very close, and perhaps given the level of... entanglement they were already having, it wouldn't have been much more intrusive to open his mind to Erik's pending orgasm, to experience. It had been a long time since he had even bothered to try and bring himself to climax. It took effort and he was usually weary from the latest crisis, but right now...

Erik owed him the pleasure for the pain he had caused him.

It was easy to slide into Erik's unshielded mind when he was quite that distracted, easy to feel the wonderful sensations Erik himself was feeling while Charles stroked him off and the chair's metal extensions slid over his body, fucked him harder and harder, and there was very little time for Charles to wallow in the sensation before he came. It was hot and bright and satisfying in its own way, and so what if he had come like that? It just proved he was human, and perhaps just a little still in love with Erik after all this time.

Erik was apparently still infatuated with him, on some level. Charles drew away his hand and shifted his chair position to see the metal organ sliding out of Erik, tentacle-like extensions soothing twitching muscles before Erik's uniform started to slowly reform.

He smiled a little to himself, glad he wasn't visible to the others as he was less able to disguise it than Erik. He waited until Erik's eyes were open again and let his mind brush over Erik's in a long forgotten but familiar caress.

"Tell me, Erik, how exactly are we going to pack this one up and take it home with us?"

He was loose limbed in the chair now, peering at Charles while the headband withdrew, and it was hard to tell if his answer was serious or not. "I think you'd be surprised at how easy it would be, if you gave me a few minutes."

"I think I'd like to explore the possibilities it holds." Charles met his gaze. "Take all the time you need."

Perhaps given his talents, Erik would find a way to combine machine and man a little more directly so that he could in reality do what Erik had experienced in a virtual reality. Either way, it was definitely a technology and an aim worth pursuing.

And if it kept Erik busy while they worked through this newest twist rather than running off to start his empire all over again, it was possibly all the better for mankind.


End file.
